Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Mauritius and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by World's Most. All the underground hits.
All Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crime record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Faraquet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harpers Bizarre,
Black Sheep,
The Move,
Bauhaus,
Bill Near,
Connie Case,
Sun Ra,
The Names,
Davy DMX,
Toni Rubio,
Swans,
Roxy Music,
The Black Dice,
Donald Byrd,
Ice-T,
The Dead C,
Little Man,
Livin' Joy,
Joey Negro,
Graham Central Station,
Q and Not U,
Jacques Brel,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Boz Scaggs,
The Angels of Light,
Leonard Cohen,
Rotary Connection,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Doors,
Soft Machine,
8 Eyed Spy,
Alison Limerick,
Alton Ellis,
Audionom,
The Modern Lovers,
Groovy Waters,
Sandy B,
The Electric Prunes,
Gerry Rafferty,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Bang On A Can,
Barrington Levy,
The Knickerbockers,
The United States of America,
Wally Richardson,
Yusef Lateef,
Whodini,
Dark Day,
Sex Pistols,
Matthew Bourne,
The Smiths,
Flash Fearless,
The Cramps,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Mojo Men,
Reagan Youth,
Jandek,
Public Enemy,
MDC, MDC, MDC, MDC.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.